In a Dark Time
by Rymrock
Summary: OOTP-AU; Harry survives the dementor attack, but loses a part of himself in the process. Dark!Harry Continuation of original Oneshot, no pairings
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter

**A.N.** This is my first real go at fan fiction. It started out as a Oneshot, but I've recently decided to continue with the story. It will probably run around 11 chapters, but could turn out longer. Of course, any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Strong language and violence ensue, Enjoy!

**Prologue**

**---  
**

Have you ever heard the phrase, 'In a dark time, the eye begins to see?' No? Well then humor me for a few minutes as I prattle on and hit you with some knowledge.

You see, its all bullshit!

That's right, surprised? It's a lie, an honest cliché told to those who never actually have to experience the real thing. But to those who do, to those who have faced the darkness head on and come through the other side… well, we know the truth. A demon is a demon, whether it's inside or out.

When it comes right down to it, they want you to think that life is complicated - that a dark time is a blessing in disguise, an instance that will change you for the better. They want you to think that when the shit really hits the fan, you'll see the good in your life for what it truly is, and strive to embrace it.

But, life's not that complicated, is it? In fact, it's often very simple. You live, you grow old, you die. You get beaten, you bleed. You experience darkness, and by god, it can consume you.

So let me tell you - when you're thrown up against a wall and lifted off your feet by the decayed hand that's clutching your throat, all the clichés in the world won't save you from the truth. I already know the good from the bad, in any case. My life hasn't exactly been rainbows and butterflies, but it sure beats having my soul sucked out of my mouth like the word vomit I'm spewing forth right now…but I digress.

You see, in those last moments before the light left my all-too-talked-about green eyes, I had a moment of clarity. They, whoever they are, are wrong. Times of darkness don't remind you of what is truly important. They show you the truth that you've been blind to all along. They show you that your only remaining family hates you, no, despises you're very being. They show you those old men who have used you, have played you like a pawn in their twisted game. They show you the friends who have ignored you, the ones you thought you could trust. But most importantly, they show you that your enemy was the most truthful of them all. He had one intention, and it never wavered. Oh Irony, you dirty, dirty whore.

And there I was, limp, sliding down the damp and mildewed wall of the tunnel system next to the all too deserted park. The dementor was so kind as to let go of my throat and gravity took over from there. I was just a heap of wasted space, much like my fat muggle cousin over in the corner has always been – though to be fair, he's even more so now.

Oh, there were quite a few things running through my head at that moment. The train plowing through the rain overhead reminded me that I was never going to step foot in Hogwarts again. A scowl was likely permanently plastered to my face as I realized I had died a virgin. And the large lump of flesh in the corner reminded me that I had failed to protect myself as well, failed to produce even a bloody silver mist as the darkness descended.

And yet, none of that mattered at all. Do you know why? Because I was thinking! I was rising to my feet - Somehow, I was alive! Imagine my surprise when I realized my soul had a body and my body had a soul. I was whole once again, I felt…whole.

---------------

I break out of my running monologue and briefly look down at the incredibly fat man in front of me, before turning away in disgust. Vernon Dursley is purple in the face from shouting. It's a wasted effort I'm afraid, as the silencing charm was intended to make sure he didn't interrupt my musings.

Still, I tire of this one-sided conversation. It's finally time to wash myself clean of this place, of the past that no longer exists for me. It's time to rewrite my future, and the edits hold no extended family.

I look back in the direction of Vernon, locking my eyes with his own. This man, this family, has caused me immeasurable pain over the years. They have tortured me…and now, now I must return the favor.

The darkness inside me swells to an all-new high, as if encouraging me on, and I find myself very interested in hearing Dursley beg for his life and the life of his pathetic wife. But first, I must complete the family reunion.

"_Accio_, Muggle bitch." There is a resounding thud that shakes the walls of the house as the bound Petunia collides with a door preventing her entry into the living room. It seems I have conveniently forgotten to open the door to the bedroom I stuck the whore in – Ten points to Griffindor!

I rest my right fist gently underneath my chin as if contemplating the situation before raising my hand once more and snapping my fingers. Aha! Vernon looks on in silenced horror, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head, as I do what is expected of the great Harry Potter… If at first you don't succeed…

"_Accio_, Muggle bitch," I shout again, feigning indignation that the woman refuses to listen to me. I'm rewarded once again by a sickening crunch and I can't help but laugh. If I had done this with Vernon, the door would have broken on the first go around.

I rinse and repeat a few more times before the door finally collapses under the pressure and I am treated to the sight of a broken and bloodied Petunia soiling the rug in front of me. Her right shoulder appears to be dislocated and her left leg is bent completely behind her back. My money's on her not being that flexible.

I glance back at good old Vernon, who seems like he really has something on his mind.

"_Finite_," I say as I casually flick my wand towards the figure bound in the chair beside me.

"You son of a bitch –" he screams violently, spit flying every which way, but is cut off as I silence him once more. I dodge the spittle assault like it's the fucking _avada kedavra_.

"Now now, we'll use our inside voices or none at all," I reply, more amused than angered. My mocking tone only serves to further infuriate the man. "Oh, and I don't appreciate your insinuations about my mother, Dursley. Perhaps your wife has not suffered enough? _Crucio_."

Petunia screams out as she is hit with the torture curse. She thrashes around on the floor violently and her back arches, bowing out. Her piercing cries are quickly drowned out by a few loud snaps as her spine breaks at multiple points from the spasms. As her body goes rigid, I relinquish the curse. She's no fun anymore.

Looking back at Vernon, I realize he has tears in his eyes now as he looks down in horror at the still form of his soon-to-be-late wife. How can someone this pathetically weak deserve to live? I point my wand dismissively at Petunia's chest and then lock eyes with Vernon once more. I want to see the recognition dawn on his face. I want to revel in his pain as he watches her die, knowing the whole time that he brought this upon his family.

"_Reducto_." At this range, the overpowered curse blows an enormous hole through Petunia's midsection as blood and innards explode outward, painting the walls, my jeans, and amusingly enough, Vernon's face.

I release the silencing charm on Dursley only to find that he has gone into shock and is currently unable to speak. The blank look of his eyes serves to only further excite the darkness that has now consumed my mind. Using the tip of my wand, I wipe Petunia's blood off of his plump cheek, ignoring his shaking in the process. Then, in all the glory of Picasso, I paint a crimson lightning bolt onto his forehead for all the world to see. I can't help but marvel at my work – I'm quite the artist. Sliding my wand's length along the side of the couch, I remove Petunia's blood. The last thing I want is to stain my wand with the blood of a muggle whore.

"There, much better. Now suffer. _Crucio_."

Dursley's cries pierce the otherwise calm of the night as he is held under for minutes on end. The screams are a beautiful cacophony of wails, moans, and desperate howls. I raise my arm, wand in hand, and orchestrate the symphony, hitting the highs and the lows with equal precision. After ten minutes, the cries cease and Dursley involuntarily coughs up blood, the screams having chaffed his throat raw.

I'm disappointed that my entertainment for the evening is over so soon. Still, my manners get the best of me. It is only reasonable, after all, to pay the man back for his performance. Watching the dim light in his eyes flicker, I raise my wand once more and prepare to say the incantation to end his miserable existence.

"Goodbye, uncle," I sneer. "_Avada Ke_-"

I'm thrown backwards through the air, my shoulder clipping the bookcase, before fully striking the far wall of the living room with a resounding thud. My shoulder snaps in the process, sending waves of pain running down my side. I attempt to shift my body to alleviate the weight on my shoulder, but find that I can't move my arms or legs.

The front door of the house has been blown off its hinges and entering the living room presently are the old fool Dumbledore followed by Remus Lupin, some strange looking girl with bubble-gum hair, and Mad-Eye Moody. Through the door I can see other individuals, presumably aurors, forming a perimeter around the house. Great, it's a party!

Dumbledore rushes forward, exuding a visible aura which burns red and orange like the flames of his phoenix. For once he actually looks like a man who could claim to be the most powerful wizard alive. If it wasn't for his ridiculously exuberant robes, I might actually take him seriously. Actually, strike that. As it is, he takes one long look at my modern art exhibit in the living room and sadness devours his normally sparkling eyes. He cautiously walks towards me, Moody and Remus in toe behind him. I try to hold back my smile, but I can't. This should be good for a few laughs.

"My god, Harry, what have you –" He catches my all too willing eyes and recoils slightly, visibly shaken. His hesitation emboldens me. "What has happened to you?"

"Oh, just a little run in with a dementor. Lost my soul, you know how it goes these days," I respond casually while trying to move my arms and legs with no success. I'm bound to the wall by some type of sticking charm. Fucking Dumbledore, always ruining my fun. Oh well...it was only ever a matter of time before they were alerted to my magic by the trace. I guess its time to move this thing along.

"He lost his soul? Albus how is this possible?" Moody growls as he walks up behind Dumbledore. The grizzled auror may have seen a lot in his days, but I'm betting nothing's quite prepared him for this.

"He lost _a_ soul, Alastor."

"I don't understand…"

"Oh do explain, Headmaster," I reply mockingly. The look of understanding on Dumbledore's face is just too priceless. My moment of clarity was all too clear in this resgard.

"The night Voldemort tried to kill Harry as a baby his killing curse rebounded, effectively killing him. Doing so caused a fragment of Voldemort's soul to break off and attach itself to young Harry here. He has housed a piece of Voldemort with him ever since. It is this fragment that has given him the ability to speak to snakes as well as his connection to the Dark Lord."

Moody looks as if he's been hit in the face. He quickly raises his wand to my head, green light glowing at the tip of his wand. It reflects off my equally green eyes and I marvel at its beauty. "You're telling me that the Dark Lord's soul is all that's left in his body!"

"Wrong soul Mad-Eye. It's all me in here," I cut in, grinning from cheek to cheek. It hasn't quite struck home for Moody yet.

"Impossible…Potter would never…" Moody whispers more to himself than anyone else as Dumbledore shuffles uncomfortably behind him. Moody's wand lingers for a moment before dropping back down to his side.

"Harry has lived with a very dark presence in his mind for so long, Alastor… by removing it, his mind and soul have become unstable. His own pure soul has compensated by staining his mind with darkness."

Of course Dumbledore would try and cast me as some kind of nutter… anything to take the blame away from himself, the old bastard.

"Explain it however you want, old man," I reply with a snarl. "But I'm just as sane as the rest of you. I've just seen the light. These…_people_, if you can even call them that, deserved this, and more."

Remus, who has been sitting on the living room sofa with his head up his ass…err, his head in his hands, now looks up at Dumbledore, tears swimming in his eyes.

"So…we've lost him…?" he asks while the pink-haired witch places a comforting hand on his shoulder. Great, so even the werewolf can get laid?

"I'm afraid there can be no light without the darkness, Remus…"

"So you're saying that the boy was Light with a piece of the Dark Lord in him, and now that it's gone, he's gone Dark!?" Moody utters in disbelief, his real eye on Dumbledore and his magic eye sizing me up.

"Irony's a fickle whore, isn't she?" I say before letting out a good, long laugh that causes the whole room to go silent. It's an odd feeling to laugh while stuck to a wall. My entire body shakes, but the confinement is unsettling. As I recover my normal surly demeanor, I look straight into Dumbledore's eyes. I deeply enjoy the tears forming therein. It's about time the man suffered for the wrongs he has committed against me.

"Cheer up, Headmaster," I say, cracking a wide smile. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'In a dark time, the eye truly begins to see?'"

---------------

The acrid smell of bodily fluids wafts through my cell, waking me out of my stupor. After just three short months, Azkaban has already lost its appeal to me. The screams of my mother, which used to torment me constantly, now only serve to provoke the darkness within me. I long to be free, to make my dark mark, if you will, on the world.

I sit up on my bed and pull at the cuffs around my ankles, providing myself enough slack to get up and walk around. The dreary conditions of my dank cell come into focus as I shove my glasses roughly on to my face. I still find it amusing that they replaced my glass lenses with plastic ones. At least they are taking me seriously.

The morning's gruel has taken its toll on me. It may be sustenance, but there's something to be said about drinking all your meals. Feeling a rush in my lower extremities, I sigh. My bladder agrees. I walk the perimeter of my new home, bare feet brushing cold black marble, and quickly reach my destination – the far north corner. Far north in the sense that it takes a few strides. Quickly, I drop my pants at the urging of my lower extremity and begin to relieve myself.

As if on cue, a massive explosion erupts at the southern end of my cell. I swivel my head just in time to see shards of marble strike an invisible barrier, mere inches from my face. Cold air from the outside swarms in and buffets my exposed body, chilling me to the bone. I shake out the last drops of piss, shivering as the warm liquid leaves my body, and turn around to face good old Tom entering my cell. He exudes a dark aura, every bit as powerful as the old fool's. His black cloak billows in the wind as he covers the short distance between us. Behind him, hovering on brooms beneath the moon, is a group of fifty or so death eaters, cloaked and masked, shooting curses at the guards below. The air is lit up with the essence of magic.

Voldemort pauses briefly before me and swivels his snakelike face, likely taking in my most recent accommodations. I smile genuinely and pull my ripped pants up to cover myself.

Finally, my time has come. My dark arts teacher has finally arrived to claim me…and he's going to teach me everything I need to know to kill him and make my own mark on this world.

I offer out my arm, palm up. My skin, pale from months without sunlight, looks ethereal in the moonlight. Without a spoken word, his bone yew wand touches my forearm and a black snake encircling a skull makes its home on my glistening white skin. I hardly feel the burning as the magic becomes one with my being.

Without a moment's hesitation, I kneel on the cold stone floor of the prison cell and look up into his burning eyes. Killing curse green meeting dark magic red in perfect harmony.

I see the sense of victory in his eyes that only the conversion of your mortal enemy can bring. His surety will be his downfall. Finally, I break the silence.

"Your wish, my lord?"

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	2. A Star Beneath the Stairs

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to Harry Potter.

**Chapter 2: A Star Beneath the Stairs**

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**

Everything they ever said about me, everything they've known, was wrong. A golden boy no more, my destiny is now a tarnished record of heroic exploits and noble deeds. The great lion consumed by the leering serpent. It's a true pity gold can't rust.

Who could have guessed at the dark potential lurking inside me? I feel it now, burning on high in the deepest recesses of my mind – just as I've felt it every single second of every single day since my run in with the dementor… an event that still seems more out of a fairy tale than real life.

Yes, a true fairy tale ending to the story of Harry James Potter. You see, few, if any, ever get their deepest, most guarded desire granted. For young Harry, may he burn in hell, that desire was simple: to truly know himself, to know the man he was born to become. How quaint then, for the neglected Boy-Who-Lived, the boy left for dead by his parents and raised to hate himself, to be given such a gift. And how ironic, still, for the gift bearer to be a creature of shadow, a beast with no identity and no soul.

If he were still with us today, I'd say…be careful what you wish for, boy…but alas, he's -

Dead! Rest in pieces HJP. Your rebirth, my rebirth, was brilliant, is brilliant. Without further ado, I present to you everything you could have been - everything you've come to be.

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I sit up in bed and shake the last lingering thoughts from my mind. It's ill to speak poorly of the dead, after all. Flinging the remaining covers to the side, I roll off the edge and stand in one fluid motion. I stretch, my two hands interlocking and reaching for the heavens, and let out a long sigh in the process. Another day of intense training awaits.

A full year has already been and gone since the mass Azkaban breakout and my decision to join the dark lord. A full year of nonstop, ball-busting training and still I've only been privy to low-level missions. Petty, bullshit stuff, really. Shaking down hitwizards for information, running raids on muggle towns – It's all utterly demeaning work for a dark wizard of my caliber, and not particularly rewarding either. Well, the torture and killing is, but it's like frying ants with a magnifying glass. There's no challenge in playing god. I thirst for true battle, to test my new skills against those who would actually stand in my way.

And yet, each day comes and passes just like those before it and my missions remain as useless as ever. It likely has everything to do with Lucius, a man every bit the bastard his son is. He has professed his distrust in me since day one, and as he currently holds great favor with the Dark Lord, his lack of trust is…most regrettable. Not unwarranted albeit, for given the chance I'd mercilessly gut him and his master, but regrettable nonetheless…

And so, with scenes of spilling Malfoy's innards playing in my head, I finish my actual stretching exercises, and don my robes with a smile. Striding forward towards the corner of my room, I take stock of myself in the full-length mirror.

My, the changes one year can make.

My raven hair is now shoulder length and straight, no longer the disgusting mess that used to be my hair and that of my father's before me. My shoulders have filled out as well, along with my chest, and I now look reasonably formidable in my battle robes. Of course, my age lessens my presence, but only until I'm seen burning a man from the inside out, or my personal favorite, _scindo lima_, the hex equivalent of being drawn and quartered. After that, it seems that the visage of a dark youth is quite terrifying indeed.

Looking farther up still, my eyes meet my own and I delight in the crimson arc that cradles the piercing green. It is the reward of my labors, the physical manifestation of the new me, just as my decrepit scar is a constant reminder of the old. It amazes me how pathetically weak I once was.

Out of habit, I reach up with my hand to touch the mark that hasn't pained me in over a year. The lightning bolt outline feels rough and jagged as my fingers dance along the edges. Reaching the tip of the bolt, I recoil my hand forcefully as a burning pain snakes its way through my arm - a reminder that I've traded one annoyance for another, if only for a little while.

I take one last look at myself in the mirror before turning and heading towards the main chamber. I have been summoned.

-------------

As I walk down the dusty, dim halls I can't help but laugh again at the confines of our headquarters. Only Voldemort would be crass enough to make his fortress a former muggle house of god. Still, the gothic cathedral, in all its glory, is a true spectacle to behold, and a personal statement of the surety of the Dark Lord. It reminds me everyday of why we're winning this war.

Sitting down on the railing of the staircase before me, I slide down, gravity tugging at my hair and cloak, which billow outwards behind me. Gracefully, I land on my feet a hundred yards or so before the doors to central chamber.

Continuing forward, I see Rabastan standing guard outside the entrance. He's a fairly short man with dark brown eyes, and black hair tied back in a ponytail. Not the most intimidating man, but a twisted bastard nonetheless.

"Potter," he says deferentially, while inclining his head slightly.

I casually take note of the respectful greeting. Lestrange and some of the other former inmates of Azkaban have been uncharacteristically receptive of my presence on this side of the war. It seems they feel that Voldemort moved on the prison earlier than intended in order to secure me, thereby saving them from unnecessary months of suffering in the process.

I smirk inwardly. Pain will do interesting things to a man's beliefs.

"Lestrange," I reply, tilting my head slightly in return. "The Dark Lord has requested my presence."

"Of course. You may enter."

I briefly meet his deep-set eyes once more before the two large, stone doors part and I enter what must have originally been the nave of the church. Walking bristly down the center aisle, I make my way towards the Dark Lord, a huge grin besieging my sits behind the altar, on a throne shaped in the likeness of human corpses. Above him, rests a circular inlay of stained glass depicting nothing less than the hand of god, itself.

At times like these, I can't help but appreciate the man's sense of humor and his flare for grandeur. It's truly a shame that he must fall so that I may rise.

"Something… amusing, Harry?" Voldemort asks, drawing out each word. His piercing voice has interesting acoustical effects on the walls of the cathedral.

I kneel before him, making sure to play my part well.

"Apologies, my lord. No matter how many times I witness them, your accommodations always make me smile."

"Yes, they are… rather fitting, aren't they," he replies, a smile of his own playing on his lips. He makes a show of casually glancing around his throne room before turning back to me.

Our eyes lock and I feel a slight sweeping sensation at the far outskirts of my mind. Only a few seconds pass before Voldemort breaks the connection and his eyes fall instead on my scar.

"I see you are as fortified as ever…" he says, a mixture of curiosity and anger flitting across his face.

There is uncertainty there as well, written in the depths of his eyes. His distrust is disconcerting.

"My lord, I do not intentionally keep you out. It is a mere consequence of the shattering and reshaping of my mind. One that I cannot control."

It's the truth, mostly. My mind has become unnaturally shielded from outside influences ever since the attack that removed Tom's soul piece. It's a lucky consequence that has been invaluable in keeping me, and my plans, alive. Though, even if I could control it, I'd keep him out like the fucking plague.

"And if I could enter your mind, what do you suppose I would find, _boy_?"

The single word sets me off. It takes all my control in that moment to contain my darker nature, my more violent tendencies, as images flash before my eyes. _A thick, beefy man with a purple face. A young, frightened boy, beaten and bloody, slumped in the corner of a cupboard._

The darkness within me threatens to break free.

_A different boy, standing over the same man now writhing in pain on the floor._ I can just make out the happiness alight on the boy's face. It mirrors the smile I'm now wearing, and brings me back from the brink.

I look up, having been lost in my thoughts, and realize that the Dark Lord is still waiting for a reply. The smile drops from my face as I try to recover.

"You would find only the highest support and devotion to our cause, and to you, my lord," I reply carefully, unsure of what emotions may have been etched on my face in those brief moments. "Perhaps… you'll let me prove myself to you?"

A moment of silence passes during which I take mental note of the wand in the holder attached to my wrist. The exits are blocked and anti-apparition wards are in place. If things go south, I'd be hard pressed to escape with my life.

Out of nowhere, the silence is broken by a high shrill laugh reverberating off the walls of the cathedral. Voldemort glances back down at me, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if uncertain of what to make of me.

"I appreciate the fight in you, Harry," he replies calmly at first, before practically spitting out his last words, laced as they are with hatred. "Just remember your place, on your knees, below me."

"Still…" he continues, returning to his normal, drawling tone, "It just so happens that you can prove yourself to me, after all."

"My lord?" I reply, eager with excitement at the chance of a real mission, though hesitant as to its nature.

At that moment, the doors to central chamber part and a fairly tall man dressed in pitch-black robes enters. There is a repetitive clinking of a cane on stone as he strolls casually down the main aisle, his long platinum blonde hair flowing freely behind him.

"Lucius," I whisper under my breath, more as an expletive than a recognition of his person. I rise, having no desire to respect the man's higher status.

"Ah, dear Lucius, so good of you to join us. I was just informing young Harry here of an important mission he is to partake in."

Malfoy bows to the Dark Lord, before glancing at me and cocking an eyebrow. I struggle to control my desire to rip his haughty smirk off his face.

"My lord, I was under the impression that the boy was useless for high-priority tasks."

My anger returns again and I have to bite my tongue in order to prevent myself from casting a quick _scindo lima_.

"Now Lucius, I wouldn't be so quick to judge," Voldemort scoffs. "He has been training quite aggressively this past year, and I must say he is quite a natural at the darker arts. I might even go so far as to say his power exceeds your own."

The look on Malfoy's face is the greatest gift the Dark Lord could have given me. It's likely the same face he would make if he were mistaken for a half-blood. I catch his eyes and leer contemptuously.

Watching Malfoy's reaction with morbid amusement, Voldemort continues on.

"Potter is necessary to complete the task at hand. It is also equally important that we allow the ministry to continue to believe that he is behind the recent death eater attacks. The longer they remain ignorant, the easier it will be to secure power."

"Of course, my lord," Lucius replies, having finally recovered from his embarrassment. "And this high-priority task?"

Voldemort turns away from Malfoy and looks intently at me, his crimson eyes boring into my own.

"I believe it is finally time I learn the full nature of the prophecy."

-------------------

"_Reducto!_" I bellow, before throwing myself to the ground as twin torture curses pass just inches above me.

I roll to the side and duck behind a wooden bunker. It's dusk now, and the sky is pitch-black save for a thin line of orange lying on the horizon. Looking out from behind the wooden frame, I'm forced to quickly withdraw my head to avoid another sickly jet of red magic barreling towards me. Half a second slower and it would have been trouble.

"Shit, that was close," I mutter angrily under my breath. The words catch on the wind, echoing out into the silent night, and I'm provided some muffled laughter in reply. It's coming from the far right corner of the field. Trying to get a vantage point on my enemies, I slowly back away from the bunker.

I hardly get more than a yard away, before a huge explosion throws me backwards and off my feet. I barely manage to throw up a meager _protego_ before the shards of the wooden barrier can make me into a human pincushion.

Lying on the ground, I flick my wand towards the remnants of the barrier and they ignite, sending red-hot flames and billows of smoke into the sky. A quick _accio_ and the smoke is siphoned out in front of me, covering my movements as I run and throw myself behind a second barrier.

I need a distraction.

Looking out from the side of the wood panels, I see a small cottage about a hundred feet in front of me, in the middle of the field. "_Serpesortia_,_" _I whisper, conjuring a thick black snake.

"_Head towards the cottage. Do not be seen."_

The snake nods, brandishing its tongue like a whip, and begins to slither towards the middle of the field. I prepare myself for the end.

Looking out once more, I see the snake just outside the house's perimeter. Twisting my wand and slashing it to the side, the snake explodes into a ball of light. Barely seconds after, two red jets of light fly towards the house, one from the last shelter on the left and the other from the one on the right.

I jump out from behind my bunker, smiling like the devil. It's time for some good old, wholesome family fun.

"_Rictumsempra_!" I shout, barely suppressing a laugh.

The tickling curse shoots out from my wand and flies towards a spot halfway between where the two enemy curses originated. Upon just passing both of the barriers, I pull my wand in an arc upwards before slashing it back down through the air. The tickling curse strikes an invisible wall, before suddenly exploding into four bone-breaker curses that fan out in all directions.

I'm rewarding with twin screams of pain as I sink to my knees, barely managing to stay conscious.

Smirking, I let out a few unenergetic chuckles. "Got 'em."

A rustling of leaves to my left puts me back on edge. Fuck, there's three of them! I turn my head just in time to be disarmed.

"Impressive, Potter…" spits a voice emanating from the shadows. I hear the crunching of more leaves, and Severus Snape steps out from the darkness. "But incredibly idiotic. Your father would be oh so proud."

"Snivellus," I reply weakly, trying to throw as much contempt into my words as my strength will allow. "Still hiding in the shadows I see."

Ignoring the verbal jab, he leans closer, giving me a good look at his long, hooked nose and grease-filled hair.

"Your arrogance is…truly astounding. Perhaps, this will teach you not to underestimate your opponents. _Crucio!_"

The jet of twisting red magic hits me directly in the stomach and immense pain ravages my senses. I struggle for a few seconds, my screams piercing the night sky, before a combination of magical exhaustion and pain consumes me.

The last thing I see is the wooden barrier still burning red against the black backdrop of the night, the smoke rising to the heavens.

------------------

I wake up to the smell of medicinal potions and quickly throw my arm up to shield my eyes from the overhead lights, groaning as my body moves under my weight. Fully coming to my senses, the soreness of my muscles becomes readily apparent, and I realize I've landed myself in the medical ward once again. In all honesty, I shouldn't be surprised. As it is, I spend over half my nights here.

Looking to my left, I let out a good, long laugh. At least I finally got Macnair in here with me. His short, scruffy black hair is still matted to his battle-scarred face, though the traces of blood are long since gone. He's also sporting some nice bruises, as well as some bandages around his ribs and a sling around his right shoulder. Looks like I hit with multiple bone-breakers.

Hearing me laugh, he turns to the side and looks at me with an angry scowl. He can only keep it up for a few seconds, however, before he breaks into a fit of laughter himself.

Walden Macnair. If I were to give him a title, I guess I'd call him my sparing partner, but not by orders. The man was with me on one of my first missions and saw me torture a few of the local muggles. He apparently enjoyed my work, because after that, he began showing up unannounced to my solitary training sessions, claiming that he could help me refine my technique. At first I had the urge to show him that my technique needed no refinement, but the idea of a sparring partner was just too good to give up. We've developed a weird sort of camaraderie since then - mostly based on our passions for inflicting pain.

Glancing back at him now, I see he's finally calmed down.

"So who'd you get out there to join you this time?" I ask, genuinely interested in the answer.

"Ah, Jugson. He saw me heading out to the fields and wanted to tag along. His role is usually limited to warding and curse-breaking, so he's been longing for some action, you know?"

I nod, and drink the pain-relieving potion on my bedside. "And Snape?"

"He showed up about halfway through and snuck behind you."

"Figures. So I guess I missed Jugson with that curse, huh?" I ask, a little disappointed and slightly confused. I could have sworn I heard two screams.

"No, ya tosser. You hit him in the head. He's dead," Macnair replies casually, while absently picking at his bandages.

"WHAT!" I shout, almost falling out my bed. "Jugson's our master warder… this is going to be a huge prob-"

I look over at Macnair mid-sentence and notice he's trying to hide his face from me, but failing miserably.

"Well fuck you very much, Macnair," I reply, mostly amused, but relieved as well when he begins to chuckle. I don't particularly fear the Dark Lord, but it's much too soon for a real confrontation.

"Yeah yeah, you got him in the arm. He's been out of here for awhile now – told me to give you his thanks for the lesson though."

I smirk. I'm glad I left an impression… It's never too early to look for future allies, after all.

"So what was that thing you hit us with, anyways, Potter? I nearly pissed myself when I heard you use the tickling curse and then the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the medical ward…actually having pissed myself."

"It's a new skill I've been working on in private for the last few months," I reply, barely controlling my laughter. "Read about it awhile back in an ancient Egyptian text on magical theory. Took me almost three months to track down a translator…"

"Well, that's all fine and good… but what the hell is it?"

"I call it roughcasting. It's basically magical theory involving transfiguration of magic itself. You cast a rough initial spell, anything that acts as a beam of magic, and then alter it into something different before it reaches your target. For some reason though, the original spell gets much more difficult to transfigure the farther away it gets…"

"Pretty impressive shit," Macnair replies, still absently unwinding all his bandages. "Converting to the torture curse would be a nasty surprise, eh?"

A scowl forms on my face. I've thought long and hard about this.

"It's impossible, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The more powerful the secondary effect, the more energy the transfiguration takes. The torture and killing curses are actually listed in the text as secondary spells that would kill the caster. Considering I almost blacked out after shaping the tickling curse into four bone-breakers, I don't doubt it… speaking of which, how long have we been in here? I was pretty drained after -"

"Almost four days now," he interrupts, while placing a hand on his chest. "My ribs pierced my lungs from that bone-breaker, you fucker."

Four days? Dammit! That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Shit, I need to get ready. The mission's tomorrow night."

Macnair turns to his side and gives me a twisted grin.

"_We_ need to get ready," he corrects. "There's a whole lot of torture to be had."

---------------

**A.N.** Well, hope it was alright. Stay tuned for more. As always, comments are much appreciated.

Also, just to give credit where credit is due, the first line is a modified lyric from a song called Be Still and Breathe by Ivoryline and the title of the chapter is a lyric from the song Morning Star by AFI.


	3. The Training Wheels of Arrogance

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter

**Chapter 3: The Training Wheels of Arrogance**

---

**12:30 a.m.**

A pinch of powder, a bright green flash, and I find myself on the other side.

I take little note of my new surroundings as I wipe the soot off my battle robes and step out of the expanded fireplace. A few more green flashes follow my own, illuminating the darkness of the entryway behind me, as the rest of our party makes its way into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Reopening the floo connection for this one-hour window was mind-numbingly easy. It was an insider job, set up by Malfoy's influence in the political arena and his deep, greasy pockets. Only three ministry workers were required to pull it off, and those loose ends…well, they've already been tied up. I may hate the man, but Lucius does have his uses. It just remains to be seen, however, whether they're worth being in his presence.

We move forward in unison now, the dull silence of the night punctuated by the repetitive pounding of boot on marble - the sound of ten death eaters strong.

Awakened by the commotion, three lone aurors, the night-shift guards, look up from their security desks to the sight of us striding towards them and into the light. Their confusion quickly turns to horror, as recognition of the masks and cloaks dawns on their faces.

Their jobs just got a hell of a lot shittier.

Being blessed with the ability to count, they jump up and scamper towards the exits, likely hoping to escape their fate and signal for reinforcements. Unfortunately for them, we've come prepared.

"Jugson, now!" Malfoy bellows, his voice slightly distorted by the silver mask otherwise obscuring his identity.

On command, Jugson rushes forward into the center of the room, removing a short cylindrical rod from within his robes mid-stride. Quickly tapping it with his wand, it elongates to roughly four times its size before being plunged into the black marble floor of the atrium. Sticking straight up, the rod begins to vibrate violently, while releasing a silver ball of light into the air above the exposed tip of the shaft. Within seconds, the ball of energy expands into thick tendrils of magic, which wind outwards and strike at the walls of the expansive room, coating them in a silvery sheen.

The aurors, already in full sprint for the exits, suddenly turn on their heels and begin running in the opposite direction, towards our position in the center of the room. They close almost half the distance before finally managing to fight the effects of the wards and struggling to a stand still.

I chuckle to myself. They were doomed before they took their first steps.

Their eyes sweep over the ten figures before them, whose wands are now all drawn, and the sheer hopelessness of the situation dawns on their miserable faces. A split second passes in silence before the atrium is once again bathed in green light and two bodies hit the floor.

Seeing his companions struck dead, the lone remaining auror sinks to his knees, shaking furiously, as Lucius walks towards him, wand raised aloft.

"Please…I have a family," the short, balding man stammers out in a whisper, fear ringing true in his words. "Please, I beg you, don't –"

Thankfully, I don't have to hear the man drone on, as his desperate pleas are interrupted by a cold laugh escaping Malfoy's lips. The sentiment is echoed by a large number of the assembled death eaters, as a few more laughs ring out into the otherwise silent room. Bored, I look around the atrium and catch sight of Jugson dismantling the ward system before shrinking it and placing it back within the folds of his robes. I make a mental note to ask him about how that pre-set warding works.

Hearing the laughter dying down now, I look back at the scene playing out before me.

"Of course you do," Lucius replies smugly, before flourishing his wand. "_Imperio!"_

"_Unlock the transport system and set it for travel to the Department of Mysteries. Go, now!_" he continues, giving commands to the auror who has already half risen to do his bidding.

I watch with mild amusement as "family man" makes his way across the hall, passing the Fountain of Magical Brethren, before finding himself in front of a large panel on the wall, just right of the central lift. The structure of the panel reminds me slightly of a muggle cash machine, though the card insert has been replaced by a small cylindrical hole.

Compelled to his task, the auror raises his arm and slides his wand into the slot in the panel. The black screen flashes a few times, before a woman's disembodied face appears.

"Ministry encoded wand signature recognized," the head dictates without any emotion, her lips moving out of sync with her words. "Welcome, Henry Gibson. Please enter your updated ministry personnel ID number."

Henry raises his hand once more and his fingers move deftly across the number pad. Each button pressed is keyed into the system and matched to an individual star appearing on the screen. Once the final key is pressed, a box appears around the seven stars, and the woman's voice returns.

"Ministry ID number confirmed. Please select your destination." Like any good, imperiused boy, Henry complies.

"The Department of Mysteries," the voice affirms. "Have a pleasant morning." Concluding the interaction, the screen goes black once again, just as the lift shudders to life and the doors slide open.

As we step inside, Lucius turns to me and dismissively waves his hand towards Henry, who is waiting, glass-eyed, just outside the lift.

"Take care of _that_, Potter." Of course he assigns the bitch work to me.

I fight the urge to tell him to piss off – we're on a time schedule after all. Instead, I settle for a sneer in his general direction before walking off the lift and up to the auror, who is now recovering from the mildest of the three unforgivables.

His eyes returning to normal, Henry shakes his head, as if trying to clear the errant thoughts from his mind. Locking his eyes with my own, I see the emotional letdown that follows the loss of the fuzzy feelings conjured by the spell. He stammers off a few incoherent words before I raise my hand to silence him.

"Henry, thank you for your cooperation," I say coldly. I feel not an ounce of pity for what is to become of this man. "I'm sure you'll be meeting your family soon enough. _Avada Kedavra_."

Turning on the spot, I walk back into the lift, just as the marble floor rises up to meet the auror's body.

The doors close and I smile. We're finally on our way.

----------

**12:41 a.m.**

Reaching our destination, the lift slows to a crawl before finally shuddering to a stop. A second comes to pass, and the doors slide open once again.

Two death eaters at the front of the lift fall immediately, as a web of curses strikes out from the shadows, illuminating the all-black hallway in front of us.

"_Declino!_" I shout on instinct, sending up a deflection shield. Shit! The guards must have gotten off a message before Jugson threw up the wards. Was that Dolohov and –

I lose track of my thoughts as a curse grazes my cheek, drawing blood and slamming me back to the present. Shields are being cast at the entrance to the lift, but we're little more than target practice now - the confined space of the lift provides almost no room for defensive maneuvering. If we can't push out, we'll all be captured, or killed.

An errant curse hits my shield and shoots off at an odd angle, colliding with the left hand side of the hallway. The impact sends a cloud of dust and black tiles careening through the air.

An idea hits me with all the force of a bone-breaker.

Taking aim at the black stonework that runs along the length of the ceiling, I release an overpowered _reducto_ and get ready. A large section of the vaulting a few yards in front of the opening to the lift collapses, sending black marble slabs and other debris cascading down into the hallway. While the aurors are thrown off balance by the blast, I quickly flick my wrist towards the wreckage and summon all of it into a large pile. Wrapping it around the entrance to the lift, I cast an engorgement spell before finally ending with a sealing charm.

We now have our very own makeshift sangar.

The assault of auror spells continues now with renewed vigor. Some pass just over the barrier, but most collide with the structure, itself, chipping portions of it away. I've bought us a minute, maybe two.

Turning back now, I take in the damage. A new recruit is dead, and Dolohov is unconscious. Most are hurt in one way or another, but the injuries don't look too severe at least. The lift reeks of sweat, and clouds of dust linger on the air. Everyone has removed their masks in order to breathe easier.

The clock's ticking - we need to end this, now.

"We need to get out of this lift, if we stay here we die," I say calmly, though the seriousness of the situation rides on every word.

"How very observant of you, _Potter," _a voice spits in reply. "And how exactly do you expect us to accomplish this task?" I look closely and see Snape at the back of the lift, a sneer on his bloodied face.

"Banish the barrier at the aurors," I say simply, shoving the obvious back in his face.

"What?"

"I'll remove the sealing charm, and then we all banish the shit out the barrier. With a little luck, we'll kill a few of them immediately and it will give us time to get out of this lift. We can take the rest out from the hallway."

"Brilliant," Jugson replies, before Snape can interject. I smirk at the disdain written on his face.

There is murmured agreement throughout the lift, during which I see Bellatrix eying me curiously, a smile on her lips. Before I can say anything, however, Lucius steps forward into the center of the group.

"Okay, we do this," he agrees reluctantly, self-preservation overriding his arrogance. "On _my_ command, remove the sealing charm, Potter. The rest of you cast banishers at the barrier."

At that moment, another barrage of curses rips into the sangar, removing a large chunk of our cover. It's now or never.

"Do it, now!" Malfoy shouts, seeing that the barrier has almost been breached.

I flick my wrist and turn my wand out, canceling the charm while continuing my wand in the motion for a banishing spell. My own banisher hits the now loose pile of debris, along with eight others, and the shrapnel flies out towards the unsuspecting aurors.

Following quickly behind, we sprint out of the lift just in time to see three aurors go down under the barrage of debris. Confusion now tainting their ranks, the rest of the aurors begin to fall like dominoes from our assault.

It's over in mere moments, though more are sure to arrive soon.

Malfoy seems to have realized this as well, as he signals for all of us to continue forward. Some of the others nod to me before donning their masks and following his lead.

I hardly notice any of this. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement from the shadows and turn just in time to see a triangular beam of purple light bearing down on an unsuspecting death eater a few yards behind me. Acting on pure instinct, my wand slashes through the air in a circular loop, summoning a slab of marble from the scattered debris and suspending it in the air just in time to be struck by the beam of magic. A large explosion results, sending pieces of marble, and the death eater, flying backwards.

"_Nihonto_!" I shout, gripping my wand with both hands, as a twenty-inch blade extends from the tip. Still feeling slight control over my magic while holding the partially transfigured wand, I banish the sword from my hands and send it flying into the shadows.

A cry of pain is the only reply.

Reaching into my left boot, I pull out my spare wand and cast a quick _lumos_. As the scene unfurls, a smile spreads across my face. The attacker, the last of this auror force, is stuck to the side wall, my blade piercing him through the chest. His legs dangle uncertainly a few feet off the floor, as his hands try desperately to remove the blade. He looks up at me as I approach, the light in his eyes already beginning to dim.

"Striking from the shadows… how cowardly," I say, my words filled with hatred and disgust. He gargles blood in response. "_Igniviscio_!"

I watch the man as his screams berate my ears. Like a lit, hollow candle, his body begins to luminesce, giving off an eerie orange glow that can be seen under his skin. As his organs begin to melt, his cries finally die down to mere whispers, whispers in tune with the crackling fire raging within his body.

I make a move to summon back my wand, but am thrown off guard as the auror's body shudders once, and then suddenly begins to spin around the blade, as if on a spit.

"What the fu –"

Laughter. The same laughter I've heard all too many times. Spinning around, I see Macnair in his signature executioner's mask brandishing his wand flippantly, a childish grin on his face.

"Was that really necessary?" I ask, trying to keep the same stupid grin off my own face.

"What?" he replies in mock defense. "I didn't want him to cook unevenly."

He bursts into hysterics and I can't help but join him. We're joined as well by some of the other death eaters, who must have doubled back when they heard the initial blast.

A slight glow of light near the side wall breaks me out of my bout of laughter. I turn my head just in time to see the fallen death eater sit up, his hands clutching his head. Walking towards him, I realize I don't recognize the mask he's wearing – must be another new recruit. They're faces all blur together anyways.

Standing over him, I offer out my arm. He looks up at me, and then at my hand, before grabbing hold. I help him to his feet, and together we walk back to the rest of the group.

Malfoy's there now, and he doesn't look pleased.

"We need to keep moving, you fools!" he snaps, before turning rapidly and leading the way down the hall.

For once, I actually agree with the man.

I summon my transfigured wand out of the wall, thankful that it's more fire resistant than the auror, and catch it in my left hand. I stow the spare and revert the blade back to my holly wand before turning, and running after the others.

-------

**1:06 a.m.**

I read it, and then read it again. It makes no difference… it's the same both times. The excitement I was riding from the mission now falls to the background as I stare at the label in front of me.

_S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D_

_Dark Lord_

_And Harry Potter_

It's strange that such a small object can cause me such grief. As it is, I spent the last few days trying to rationalize the purpose of this mission, the reason Voldemort would desire a prophecy, and every time I came up with only one answer: It must be about the two of us. He must need me to retrieve it. Why else would he put me on a high-priority mission, when he doesn't fully trust me?

Now, staring up at the small, glass sphere, all my concerns are confirmed. And considering my future plans, I doubt anything this prophecy reveals could be good for me.

"Potter! Stop wasting time and grab the prophecy," Malfoy spits out from behind me, breaking me out of my reverie.

Realizing there's nothing I can do at the moment, I reach up and snatch the prophecy from the shelf. The cold glass makes contact with my skin, and sends shivers running down my spine. And in that instant, I know. This thing will ruin everything… I have to find a way to destroy it before Voldemort can get his hands on it.

Turning back around, I notice that Malfoy is alone now, and possible solutions to my current predicament start running through my head.

"Where are the others?" I ask, the killing curse already playing at my lips.

"Forming a perimeter for our exit. Now… give me the prophecy," He replies slowly, his hand twitching towards his wand. He must have read the intent on my face.

I grip my wand tightly by my side, preparing to curse him into oblivion, just as I hear footsteps rounding the corner.

Lucius and I both turn, wands raised, as Snape sprints out from behind a giant shelf of prophecies. As he continues towards us, I notice that his robes are in tatters and his mask is completely shredded. The rest of the aurors must have arrived.

"The aurors are arriving and the Order will follow soon," Snape confirms between heavy breaths. "We need to get out, now." Malfoy nods before turning to me and extending out his hand.

"The prophecy, Potter. Give it to me."

I shiver in excitement. This couldn't be better. Now I can get rid of two bastards for the price of one, and the aurors will cover my tracks. I just need to catch them off guard…

I begin to channel magic into my wand, but stop when I feel the glass of the prophecy getting warmer. Looking down, I realize that black smoke is now forming into a spiral inside the sphere, which is now glowing with magic. I feel immense pain as the glass continues to heat up, burning into my palm, before -

Everything goes black, and I can't move. My mouth, on the other hand, can, and begins to do so on it's own accord, as if possessed. A woman's voice meshes with my own.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"_

I can hear people talking in the background, shouting perhaps, but it's all a blur…

"_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_"

More incoherent shouting reaches my ears…

"_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_"

There is only silence now.

"_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_"

I feel the orb cooling down in my palm, and seconds later, the darkness lifts from my eyes. I look up to the sight of two wands inches from my face.

Lucius has a haughty sneer on his face, but Snape… Snape just looks like he's been struck over the head. And as for me, well, despite the horrible situation I'm in now, I feel a bit comforted, actually. Now that I know it's dictated by fate, my plans seems a bit more real, a bit more possible, than they ever did before…

"Looks like your luck has finally run out, _Potter_. I'm sure the Dark Lord will be… most interested to hear –"

Malfoy's cut off as a curse grazes off my shoulder and hits him squarely in the chest, completely leveling him. In a split second decision, I throw myself behind another large shelf of prophecies just as three more jets of light fly past me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Snape mirror my actions a few rows down.

How amusing. I'm saved by the aurors.

Settling myself behind cover, I flick my wand towards the walkway and summon Malfoy's body to my side. I pull him farther down the aisle, and out of sight, before finally taking a look at him. He's taken a bone-breaker to the chest and his breaths are slow and labored, but he's still alive.

"How do we get out of here?" I shout, trying to be heard over the battle now raging in the walkway. It appears that the rest of our group has circled back and is now providing cover fire.

Lucius looks up at me, opening his mouth to reply, but spits up blood instead. I grab him by the robes and shake him.

"The lift must be broken now. How the fuck do we get out of here?"

He wipes the blood off his face, and tilts his head up, looking me in the eyes.

"There's a back way," he stutters out before coughing up more blood. A smug smile appears on his face. "Heal my wound and I'll take you."

"Tell me how to get back, and then I'll heal you the best I can." I reply firmly, before pausing slightly. "I swear on my magic," I add, knowing he needs more convincing. Tendrils of light swirl around my wand as the oath takes hold.

"Right hand corner of this room…" he coughs out, trying to cut his loses. He really has no choice, after all. He'll be dead in a minute without any treatment. "…two lefts…and then up the stairs to the atrium…"

Satisfied, I raise my wand and place it on his chest before casting the basic healing charms I know. I close the wound, but don't know enough to mend the broken ribs. Malfoy looks up at me, relief showing on his face.

When it comes down to saving his own ass, the man really is oblivious.

Smirking, I keep my wand leveled at his chest. Relief turns to confusion as he looks on.

"Now Lucius, I thought you were a better politician than this?" I question mockingly, while digging my wand into his broken ribs. "Haven't you ever been told to never show your hand too early?"

"Your oath, you fool," He sputters out in between groans of pain. I laugh at his ignorance.

"And here I thought doublespeak was something you thrived on. I said I'd heal you, and I did. I said nothing about killing you after. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Frozen stiff, Malfoy can only follow me with his eyes as I lean down and place my mouth just inches away from his ear. I decide to keep these last words short and sweet.

"_Avada Kedavra_," I whisper.

A flash of green light passes, and I raise myself back to my feet. Placing the prophecy on the ground, I shatter it with a _reducto_, before turning my attention back towards the fight.

We need to get the fuck out of here.

I slip into the shadows and weave my way through row upon row of prophecies, trying to make my way to where our group is now pinned down. Eventually, I break through a clearing and see a group of seven death eaters crouching behind a few rows of over turned shelving units. Shards of glass, remnants of unfulfilled prophecies, are littered across the floor.

"Potter!" Macnair shouts out in disbelief as I run towards them, ducking under a criss-cross of curses, before sliding into place behind their makeshift shelter.

"Jeez kid, thought you were a goner," he continues, as I take in our most current predicament.

"Aye, welcome back from the dead," Jugson chimes in, throwing me a smirk before shooting off two killing curses towards the aurors.

"Malfoy?" a voice questions from the other end of shelter, hatred etched in the single word.

I look over and see Snape lying down, back against one of the upturned shelves. He's pretty banged up, and his body reeks of fatigue.

"Dead. Hit in the chest with a bone-breaker… I tried to heal him, but I couldn't mend the broken bones," I reply truthfully, though conveniently leaving out the part where I killed him after.

Snape turns his head to the side and glares at me with all-too-knowing eyes. The man heard the prophecy, and he's obviously put two and two together. I have to find a way to dispose of him before he can reveal anything to Voldemort. "And the prophecy?" It's not a question, but a request for confirmation of his suspicions.

I shake my head and there is an audible groan from the rest of the group. Two are dead, many are injured, and the mission is now a complete failure. The only things left to loose are our lives.

"Look, I know how to get out of here," I shout, breaking them out of their stupors. "We still have time, we just need a distraction."

Before anyone can say anything else, Bellatrix stands up from behind the shelter, wand intricately weaving through the air. She lets out a loud cackle before chanting the incantation that no one sane would ever dare use.

A loud, billowing noise rings out over the raging battle, as enormous flames appear halfway between our position and the aurors'. Advancing quickly, they consume everything in their wake, spreading like a plague in both directions. The aurors flee from their position as the flames rage towards them, mutating into chimeras and serpents as they give chase.

The flames race towards our group as well as we flee from their uncontrolled wrath, myself in the lead. Sprinting down the second hallway towards the staircase, I turn my head and see Snape running parallel to me. I grip my wand, intent of performing a quick tripping jinx, but lose my concentration as I feel the flames of the fiendfyre mere yards behind me.

Taking the stairs two at a time, we makes it up to the landing, before pushing open the double doors and emerging into the atrium.

------

**1:23 a.m.**

We don't stop as we hit the floor running.

Behind us, the fiendfyre melts through the double doors and pushes its way into the atrium, quickly consuming everything in its wake.

Sprinting straight for the floo connection, I don't see the blue jet of magic until it's too late. It strikes me full on in the shoulder, snapping my left arm with ease, before sending me flying sideways through the air. Striking the wall hard, my other arm gets crushed and my wand flies out of my grip. I don't even have time to see where it lands before I'm forced to throw myself to the side to avoid another blue streak of light.

Dazed, and in extreme pain, I slip my spare wand out of my boot and force myself back to my feet. I keep moving, dodging another curse, as I feel the fiendfyre closing in behind me. Glancing to the side, I finally catch the origin of my beating: the Order has finally arrived. Moody is out in front, a snarl on his scarred face, as he casts another round of spells in my direction.

I throw up a deflection shield as I cover the last few yards to the floo connection. Most of the group has already passed through, but Macnair, Jugson, and surprisingly enough, Bellatrix have remained behind to provide cover for me.

"Potter!" Moody shouts, his voice echoing over the crackling of the flames. The fiendfyre has already consumed a large portion of the expansive atrium, forcing most of the Order to retreat back towards the entrance. Moody, however, stands firm in an area as of yet, unblemished by the wake of fire.

He's calling me out.

I look at the floo, and then at Moody, before walking forward. It's time to dance.

I hear Jugson and Macnair urging me back, but I shrug them off. This is what I have longed for, a true test of my skills, and by Merlin, I'm going to destroy him.

I cast a pain numbing charm on both my arms and then make the first move. Whipping my wand in a graceful arc, I roughcast an _expelliarmus_ directly at Moody's face. I see him grin in recognition of the spell as he sends up a _protego _to meet my attack. At the last second, I slash my wand down at an angle, transfiguring the spell into a bone-breaker that can penetrate minor shields.

The smile is quickly wiped off Moody's face as the spell slips through past his weak defenses. Instinctively, his arm flies up to shield his face and I'm rewarded with the sweet sound of bone snapping.

It's my turn to grin.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this, Moody?" I taunt, while taking in the status of the fiendfyre. There's almost no atrium left, and our floo window is closing quickly. I need to end this, and fast.

"A year of training and you've gotten cocky, eh Potter?" he growls in reply, while casting a pain-numbing spell of his own. "Let me show you what a lifetime of experience is worth."

And with that, he flicks his wand with impressive speed and casts an orange curse directly at me. I follow its path towards me, letting it get as close as possible, before casually sidestepping it at the last second. Looking back up, I prepare myself to taunt Moody's latest effort. Instead, I'm forced to throw myself to the ground to avoid a second curse that I almost didn't notice. Shit! That was stupid.

I roll to the side, avoiding a third jet of light, just as black wires emerge from the atrium floor and snake their way around my arms and legs. I pull against them with all my strength, but it's useless. I'm pinned down to the floor.

I hear shouts from behind me, and realize that the rest of the Order is keeping Macnair, Jugson, and Bellatrix at bay. They can't help me now.

Before I can even fully realize the position I'm in, I see another curse rippling towards me. I feebly to struggle against my bindings with no luck. At the last second, with no hope left, I desperately shout _protego_, and will a feeble shield into existence. The twisting black jet of magic strikes the shield with earth shattering force, obliterating it completely before clipping me directly in the left side. A huge explosion of energy is the result, and it sends me rocketing backwards through the air like a rag doll.

I land with a dull thud, going in and out of consciousness, as three hands grasp on to me and pull me into the fireplace. Curses impact the walls all around us, and the fiendfyre rages in the background. I see one last flash of green and the Ministry of Magic disappears from sight.

-----

**1:42 a.m. **

Whispers. I open my eyes, but can't. I can't see. Thoughts hurt, nothing makes sense. What -

"…Merlin, look at…"

Coldness… darkness. Only-

"…left side… magical replacement… miracle if…"

Side? Magic?

"…does He know… so Snape…"

Snape! Forgot…Snape… he knows… he knows everything…

Nothingness.

-----

**A.N.** Well, hope you enjoyed it. Comments/Thoughts/Criticism? Let me have it.


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